


Releasing tentions

by Caeoticc



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Cayde-6 is mentioned, Hes prob very OOC, I've never written for the Drifter, Its kinda gross and cute, The Drifter is concerned and cares, The guardian has anger issues, They kind of have a relationship thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:42:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21703171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Caeoticc/pseuds/Caeoticc
Summary: The Guardian has anger issues, and the Drifter is more than happy to help you sort things out.
Relationships: The Drifter/ The Guardian
Kudos: 30





	Releasing tentions

You had anger issues. Sure you’d like to say that all guardians, especially hunters, did to some extent, but that wasn’t entirely true. You’d call it anger issues, but the vanguard knew it was pent up guilt and self resentment. Guilt because of what happened at the prison a year and some odd months ago. Because of Cayde. Because you didn’t get there in time. Because YOU let him die. While you spoke with Ikora and Zavala of your inner turmoil, no advice, or wisdom they could ever preach to you offered you any relief. 

You were the chosen one, the guardian who saved the city, who saved the traveler; but you couldn’t save your own friend, your own fucking hunter vanguard. His final words would play through your head like a damn record set on repeat, even his own words couldn’t take the edge off of the pure rage you felt, especially at this exact moment.

There was only one person you could run to who could help you release the pent up energy, and resentment that tore at your stomach and at your very core.

The fucking Drifter. 

You storm into the Derelict, and the Drifter turns from what he was doing to greet you. You both had done this many times before, he knew you needed a release, a distraction, you needed to fight, to scream, to bloody yourself, because gods above you just wanted relief. 

You sling off your mask and toss it angrily to the side with a sharp ‘clack’, next comes your cloak, which you all but rip off your person. Doesn’t matter, it could be re-sewn. Hunters went through armor and fabric like it was nothing.

You both made eye contact, and he knew. 

Drifters’ browns bunch together as he drops the coin he fiddles with, along with some papers you assume he was reading, to the ground beside himself. 

“How bad, hotshot?” He beckons as he loosen and removes the spiked shoulder pads he wore.

You didn’t respond to his question as you all but hurled your two side guns to your sides, along with your sword and knife. Your jaw was clenched so damn hard it was a surprise your ghost didn’t need to heal you for busted or cracked teeth. 

The man nodded, that sleazy smirk decorated his face as he sense your rage, he slipped the dark overcoat that covered his green gi, off. 

He braced himself, his arms up in front of himself to catch you, as he knew for damn sure you would come at him.

He snided, “Give me all you’ve got, maverick.”

It was with that you lurch forward, your light searing from every hair follicle on your body. All you could see was white. 

You threw the first punch, to which the drifter was able to block.

“Come on, Y/N that was fucking pathetic, come at me like you mean it!” His vocal encouragement wasn’t really necessary, but gods did it help to rile you up some more. 

It wasn’t but a few seconds later and you were right up on the drifter, your fists clenched like your life, or Caydes’ life, depended on it. You shifted your weight onto your right leg as you went in to swing to his right. Your main objective was his face, but you managed to nail his shoulder. 

You were met with a firm grunt from the man as he was quick enough to block your next upcoming punch, his free hand reached forward and met your neck. For his age, the Drifter was quite spry, he could duck and dodge as well as an experienced hunter, and there was no doubt that he was quite the rival when it came to hand to hand combat. 

Using his entire weight, as well as his momentum, he forcibly shoved you back against the concrete wall that was located behind you. His hand was firmly clamped around your neck as he held you pinned against the wall. 

You snarled, releasing a feral growl as you brought your knee upward and into the mans gut in an attempt to get him to release his grip. Your knee met his bullet proof vest, and the drifter chuckled, his grasp on your neck only becoming tighter. 

“Give up, already?”

You croaked under his grasp, “Fuck you.” You brought your left arm up and clamped your gloved hand over his wrist, and yanked it to the side, resulting in a firm ‘snap’ from his arm. 

He groaned and quickly let go of you, allowing you a free punch to the mans face. Blood from either his mouth or nose, you didn’t know, but you’d find out later, sprayed the wall to your side.

You chuckled manically, as you made your way towards the drifter once again, who was now pressed against the opposite wall from you, his wrist hanging loosely at his side. 

You were so blind with rage, light, and adrenaline, that you didn’t react quick enough when the drifter brought his good hand up, and slugged you right in the mug. The force of his punch knocked you off balance, resulting in you biting your tongue as you hit the ground, your arms blocking your face from eating it entirely.

It was the drifters turn to laugh, and you stared up at him with a look that would shake the fallen gods. You spat the mouthful of collected blood from your mouth onto his boots, your hand coming up to clutch your jaw which had now become completely numb. 

Drifter pushed himself from up against the wall, reaching down he grabbed a mess of your hair, scruffing you like the damn animal you were acting like, and brought you back up on your feet before slamming you against the wall he was previously backed up against. With his fractured wrist, he held your left arm painfully twisted behind your back, any more pressure and he was going to break your shoulder.

He continued to twist, but you weren’t about to call it. You brought the heel of your boot up, and nailed him right in the nuts, a cheap-shot sure, but it was valid. 

The man fell backwards and slammed back first onto the concrete ground, but his grip on you never faulted. You fell backwards with him, and landed back first on top of him. With one hand still locked in your hair, he released your arm and allowed his free arm to lock around your throat in a choke hold, he secured your legs by wrapping his legs over yours and locking them so yours were immobile. 

You had one arm free, the other was pinned painfully behind you and against the drifters chest. You attempted to swing at the mans face in an attempt to get him to flinch or loosen his grip on you, but that only lasted for mere seconds as his choke hold was starting to tighten and tighten. The blood from your nose and mouth was seeping back into your throat and sinuses, making it harder for your to get a solid breath in. It wasn’t soon after that you started to cough and gag, blood and mucus covered both of your faces. You relented on punching and you resulted to clawing at the drifters arm that was snaked around your throat. 

The man spoke up after what felt like an eternity, “Call it, Y/N. You know I won’t let up until you call it.” He was breathing heavily, as he spoke, but his grip didn’t cease. 

But you wouldn’t call it, you refused to. Every since time you both did this, it was until one of you either lost consciousness or died and had to be revived.

You head was spinning and your ears were ringing, but you never let up, your nails and arms were coated with the drifters blood as you continued to claw at him. Your vision was blurring as you could no longer force your throat or lungs to take another breath. Your vision eventually tunneled and your whole body shook as you were being strangled, you stopped clawing and your hand fell to your side.

And the Drifter released you.   
You were surprised he let go, but that didn’t stop you from rolling off the man and onto your side to cough and heave. You gasped and gagged, you felt the blood vessels in your eyes and throat explode as you continued to cough up blood in an attempt to breathe clearly once again.

The Drifter, who was just as fucked up as you were, slid himself over to you and firmly patted at your back, encouraging your body to do what it needed for your to recover. 

You were on your knees, your head resting on your arms that were clasped together on the cold floor below you, while the cold felt great, it encouraged your body to continue to shake from shock. You simply allowed yourself to throw up as well as gasp and weep as much as your body would allow you to. 

Drifter sat beside you, he too spitting up mucus and blood, and shivering alongside you. 

The Drifter knew why you did this, and why you needed to do it. While he knew it wasn’t healthy in the slightest, if it helped you in any sort of way, he was glad to assist you. As he knew you would do the same for him.

Your vomiting had stopped, but your gasps and shivers only seemed to get worse as his got better.

Drifters ghost healed the broken wrist, but the skin wounds would take a longer period to heal. When he was positive he had full mobility of both of his hands, he carefully grasped your shoulders, and forced you to sit up and turn to him. 

Your eyes were hooded with swelling, tears, and exhaustion, but you made eye contact with him to the best of your ability. 

He shook his head as he took your face in his hands, as delicately as possible. You never asked him to do this, but he always brought you down after your fights. ‘Aftercare’ as he so oddly decided to call it. His thumbs gently brushed over your cheeks, clearing a small bit of tears, snot, and blood from your face. You personally felt like he did it for both of your sake. 

You could only stare at him as your ghost healed you. While you no longer had the urge to lash out, you still felt the guilt. That was why you did this, you had no control over what happened to Cayde, but you controlled this, you could fight back, and you allow yourself to feel the hurt before your ghost healed you. 

Your ghost chirped, signalling they were finished healing you.

“Feel better, hotshot?”

“Yeah.” Your voice croaked and cracked, although your ghost healed you, you still reaped some injuries that would take ample amount of time to heal completely.

The Drifter released your face from his hands.

You situated yourself between Drifters legs, you sat criss-cross as you brought your own hands to your face in an attempt to make yourself decent once more.

The Drifter sat back and braced himself with his wrists, “Why do you let me win?”

“Hm?”

“Seriously, I know you could probably kick my ass, but yet I end up beating the shit out of you each time we do this.”

You coughed before you snickered, “It makes me feel human, Drifter. That and the pain.. It’s kinda humanizing. Our ghosts heal us so quickly when we’re on the field, sometimes feeling the pain brings us back to reality.. Plus.. what happened with Cayde..”

Drifter sighed at the mention of Cayde, “Look, Y/N I know you’re still bent out of shape because of what happened then, but ya gotta stop blamin’ yourself. I ain’t one to be talkin’ bout’ shit like this.. But it ain’t healthy to keep goin’ like this.” 

You nodded as the Drifter went about his sermon as to why none of this was quote ‘healthy’, but you knew he was right. You also knew that Cayde wouldn’t be proud of how you were dealing with things. 

You weren’t aware that you weren’t exactly paying attention until the Drifter placed a hand on your knee. “You okay, kid?”

“Yeah, yeah! And.. yeah.. You’re right, this isn’t exactly the best way to go about things..”

He nodded, “I mean I’m honored to know you like to come and see me.. But I wish it were under better circumstances.. Or just because you wanted to. If you wanna fight, Gambit is always an option..”

“I know.. And honestly, I like coming to see you Drifter, and not just for the fights.” You carefully sat a hand on his lower arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

He gently squeezed your knee, “Ya know I care bout’ ya, right?”

Your lips curved upwards into a smile as you nodded. “Likewise.”  
You were both suddenly interrupted by an alarm that rang out from the Derelict. Guardians were incoming for Gambit. Drifter groaned.

“Nah shit, forgot bout’ that.” The Drifter got to his feet, and took your hands and pulled you up with him. He quickly grabbed his jacket and shoulder pads, and clasped them in place, you stood back against a wall and watched. He soon headed out to the teams and announced that they would be fighting.

He came back in ten minutes later, with Fallen on the field. You followed him over to the station where he stood and proctored the game, you both were completely out of sight from the other guardians. 

You made sure to silence the comms before you spoke up, “Hey Drift.”

“Mhm?” He looked up from the map that dictated where every guardian and hostile was and you simply kissed him on the check. The both of you have worked together for quite some time since Caydes’ death, to say you both had some sort of a ‘relationship’ was quite far-fetched, but you both did care deeply for each other. 

You could feel his lips widen with a smile, as his arm slinked around your side. Unbeknownst to him, his arm hit the trigger that put the comms back online.

“Ya know,” He began, “There are other ‘physical’ activities that could help you and maybe myself, release certain tensions, back in the Golden Age, they called it a ‘hate fuck.’”

You laughed and shook your head at his suggestion. He was a sleazy bastard, but you had to admit that he had charm where it counted. And the concept of rough sex.. Well that was something you would happily get behind.

You were about to respond before you noticed the green light on the data system. Everyone in the Derelict heard that.

Your eyes widened, as you pointed to the light, and you swear the look on the drifters face was something for the vanguard archives.

“Oh. Fuck. Me!”

“Mybe later?”

“Y/N SHUT IT!”


End file.
